


The Storm-Sky Kingdom

by businessskeleton



Category: Original Work
Genre: Existential, Fantasy, Multi, Skeletons, at least I think so, deep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9577238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/businessskeleton/pseuds/businessskeleton
Summary: These are some ideas I've had floating around in my head for about a year now. It's inspired by many pieces of media and mythology. See if you can spot all of the references.





	1. The Calm Before

**Author's Note:**

> These are some ideas I've had floating around in my head for about a year now. It's inspired by many pieces of media and mythology. See if you can spot all of the references.

Adrian tilled the land by hand, and never ceased to be amused by the rhyming in this phrase. Tilling the land by hand while he… uh… stand? He could never think of another word, but he was fine by that. His family had tended to those acres since the dawn of memory, and his family didn’t show any signs of slowing down. Of course, he always felt something was missing. He wouldn’t admit it, but he wanted to leave the farm and make something of himself…  
That thought made him giggle, like he was a child again. He would write it down when his chores were done. He had done enough in the world already.  
After hours of planting and watering, he went inside his house at sunset. He hung his hat up on the coat rack he kept next to the door, and opened his humble fridge in the hopes of humbly making himself some humble dinner.  
The sight of the mostly empty refrigerator made Adrian’s skull crease.  
“Don!”  
A white skull poked out from the upstairs guest room. “Yeah, Adrian?”  
“Where did my milk and potatoes go?”  
Don exited the room, all 5 feet and 6 inches of him. He struck a heroic pose. “A true hero needs a truly heroic dinner!” He tried to make his voice booming and heroic, but just succeeded in making it crack several times.  
Adrian pinched the space between his eye sockets.  
“The only heroism I’ve seen out of you is that one time you killed a spider on your own.”  
Don relaxed the pose, taking on a more reserved, yet still melodramatic, position. “The demon that whispered as I slept. Aye! ‘Tis no greater foe!” Adrian pinched the bridge of his nasal cavity tighter. “The correct tense is ‘twas, you bleeding imbecile.” Don dropped the pose, shocked at his brother’s sudden hostility. If Don had a jaw, it would surely be slack. “What’s gotten into you?” Adrian suddenly calmed down. “I don’t know, Don. I really don’t know.” His skull was the picture of worry. “It’s just… been difficult since the king stopped addressing his subjects.” Adrian went back to the fridge, and pulled out an entire cabbage. “The crops have been failing, and there’s unrest in the capital because nobody knows what to do.” Adrian took a bite out of the cabbage head, then offered it to Don, who had just come down the stairs. Don stuck out his tongue, which was in itself an abnormality in skeletons, and gestured for Adrian to keep it. Adrian shrugged, and continued. “There’s been rumours that the king’s been murdered, usurped by a dark wizard of some description, and that wizard is currently planning on destroying the world with some dark artifact that they found lying about.” Adrian took another bite of the cabbage. Don tilted his cranium. “That’s a really specific rumor.” Adrian shrugged. “Rumors are specific in a world that favors heroes and adventurers.” Adrian put the rest of the cabbage back and walked into his living room. Don followed. It was Thursday after all, and that was movie night. The living room was connected to the tile-floored kitchen, and the transition was marked by a line where the linoleum and carpeting met. Don and Adrian took off their shoes and walked to the couch. Don flicked a switch to darken the room, and Adrian reclined in a chair with a legrest below his feet. Adrian had the remote this time, and that meant they were watching the news. Don didn’t care, as he usually fell asleep in the middle of such things. Adrian switched on the TV and Don lied himself down upon the couch. Adrian switched to the Royal News Station Channel (or RNSC, for short.) Don decided he had best stay awake for this report.

Don was awoken by Adrian, shaking him furiously. Don blinked his eyes quickly, or at least performed a skeletal imitation of said action, and slowly rose. Adrian pointed to the television set. “The king is about to give an address!”  
Don shot Adrian a glare, then closed his eyes. Adrian sighed and sat back down. Far be it from his brother to actually pay attention to politics, even when their leader speaks for the first time in a decade. The camera was aimed at a draugr in a suit, which gave a report while unrelated headlines scrolled along the bottom of the screen. The draugr gave an incredibly boring and monotone summary of how the king hadn’t been heard from in X number of years, blah blah… Adrian read the headlines that scrolled along the bottom. Something about a fracture… suddenly, the draugr broke its monotone! “The King has arrived!” The draugr’s sockets glowed as fire ignited inside them, and it turned to applaud. The camera switched to an overhead view of the castle balcony, as the glass doors opened and the curtains were drawn back. The king, a tall vampire in gilded armor, raised his arms as if greeting the eternally-stormy skies of his realm. With a voice that echoed across the capital and through the plaza, with confetti falling and fanfares playing, he boomed out a single request.  
“May I have your attention, please?”  
The fanfares silenced, the people shushed their conversations, and the confetti stopped falling. His black eyes gazed about the plaza, and he spoke again once he was sure everyone in the kingdom was listening. “It has been far too long, hasn’t it?” More silence. “I have come to say that the decade I have spent in my castle has been well-spent indeed! Through much deliberation, I have decided…”  
The entire plaza leaned forward.  
“...to best suit our failing crops…”  
So many farmers leaned forward that Adrian could hear them, or maybe that was just him.  
“...and the civil unrest in the capital…”  
Far off, the sound of a thousand previously-uninterested undead leaning forward could be heard.  
“...is to simply…”  
The country was dying of anticipation  
“...eliminate all skeletons!”  
Silence across the world.  
Then came the shouting.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

 

The king waltzed past the glass doors into his ornate smoking room. Not that he smoked. Nor did he want to, for that matter. “I don’t know why this room was built with so many ashtrays. It should be remodeled.” He saw a dog scurry across the floor. “Oh! I know what to use this room for!” With a well-aimed kick, he sent the poor mutt flying into an empty ashtray. He cackled and called for his butler. A man with the consistency and color of a piece of celery entered the room from a pair of wide double doors. “You called, sir?” The king walked to his butler with his arms wide. “Geoffrey! My favorite serving coat!” He hugged the butler with a wet-yet-satisfying crunching noise. The butler’s eyeholes widened in surprise. “Uh… what did you need, sir?” The king let the man go “I need you to tell the foreman to remodel this smoking room into a puppy-punting arena.” Geoffrey sighed, preparing himself for what was to come next, and spoke. “Sir, I’ve noticed something off about your behaviour.” The king turned to Geoffrey as he lined up another unsuspecting dog. “What do you mean, my good man?” Geoffrey glanced at the dog. “Well, sir you seem to be acting a bit…” The king pulled his leg back, “...and I mean no offense when I say this…” the king let his leg fly, and a wet crunch could be heard. The king groaned in disappointment. “...completely and totally evil in every way.” Geoffrey picked himself up off the ground, a hole in his abdomen and the dog in his arms, no worse for wear. The king glared at Geoffrey. “You know what I said about interrupting my puppy-punting!” Geoffrey’s eyeholes narrowed slightly. “You never said anything about it.” The king began jumping up and down, his robes billowing out and his crown bouncing upon his head in a most undignified fashion. “WELL I THOUGHT IT!” He continued in this fashion for a good 5 minutes before calming down. After Geoffrey had been completely convinced that the dog was okay, he let the thing go. It wandered down to the kitchens. “You can’t really blame me for thinking it of you, sir. Between the kitten-kicking, the puppy-punting, calling for the genocide of an entire undead subset, and legalizing jaywalking.” The king’s pouting face faded. For a moment, Geoffrey thought he saw something cross the king’s face. The king quickly replaced his pout with a smile, and Geoffrey dismissed what he saw as fabrication. The king began to explain. “Dear Geoffrey, I have become rancorous, and as a consequence, you will most likely decease down the pike.” Geoffrey scratched his head. He was smart, but not that smart. Half of what the king said didn’t even sound like real words. Before Geoffrey could respond, the king had pompously drifted to the doors with a rushed “okaythanksforlisteninggetonthatbyebye.” The doors slammed, and Geoffrey was alone. He pulled a dog from the ash tray and fell silently to petting it as it licked its leg, the hole in his abdomen already mostly healed.


	2. Ch__te_

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This seems a bit less... stable.

He stumbled into a room of plaster and carpet. There was a comfortable-looking sofa behind him, and a not-so-comfortable desk in front. On the desk read a sign that simply said “Gabriel will see you soon.”  
This gave him pause.  
He rubbed his eyes.  
Yes, indeed, there was a sign with a book in front of it, and it had spoken to him. He blinked, and he could almost see a pair of eyes. “Uh… excuse me?” The eyes, or at least what he thought were eyes, looked towards him. “I said that Gabriel will see you soon.” A curt readjustment of the book led him to believe the conversation was over.  
It could have been seconds, it could have been minutes, it could have been thousands of years. He sat in that comfortable couch and watched the sign read. He wasn’t sure how the thought had eluded him, but he seemed to remember a world where equally strange things were commonplace, and he had experienced them through the eyes of a girl in a blue dress. He had seen a movie- wait, read a book… maybe it was a movie based on a book? Maybe he played a game? A game based on a movie based on a…  
Thinking like this made his head hurt.  
Not too long after, the sign vanished in a cloud of static and pixels. He was left alone, on a very comfortable sofa, in a white room of plaster and carpet, with no memory of who he was, and not even an outdated magazine to entertain himself with. More time, more waiting. He almost fell asleep. Suddenly, a door slammed and a dark, imposing shape occupied his vision. His eyes shot open, and he saw a human wearing a skull mask. This skull-wearing human, and he had no reason to believe it was human to begin with, had taken a seat behind the desk. Its eyes, pinpricks of light behind an otherwise pitch-black skull, were aimed down at some papers. It mumbled something in a language he didn’t understand, but recognized. It picked up the papers, and brought them closer to its socket. The masked figure directed its attention to the poor man on the sofa, who looked positively terrified. The figure stood up and reached over the desk towards the suddenly cowering man. He wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt afraid. The thing said something, and the man was compelled to shake its hand. The figure’s grasp was firm, and its handshake firmer. The man felt he might’ve been torn from his skin. The figure sat down and finally said something the man on the couch could understand.  
“Do you know why you are here?”  
The man shook his head.  
The figure sighed in relief, its bone-adorned cloak rising and falling.  
“Good. Then the wipe worked this time.”  
The man sputtered. “A wipe? Wait… this time?”  
The figure snickered.  
A white door materialized behind the figure, coming in from nothing. The figure stood and turned around, producing a key from somewhere in the countless folds in its robe. It stuck the key into the door’s lock, and turned it. The door opened, and a blinding light filled the already-white room.  
The office crumpled in blocks, and the man was falling.


	3. Packing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess it takes more than a genocide-based ordinance from an absolutist ruler to stop forced exposition and sloppy foreshadowing.

Adrian stared at the screen. What was the coverage of their beloved leader’s first appearance had become a riot. The draugr had run from the square and its camera crew had followed. Explosions could be heard as near-dead skeletons ignited themselves in the hopes of fighting off their foes. The poor sods were grossly outnumbered, and no matter what secret reserve of strength sparked their bones, their ribcages were shattered, and their souls drifted past the stormy skies and into the unknown. Many were dead besides the skeletons. The draugr caught a stray shard from a shattered soul weapon in the arm and fell as the wound steamed. It screamed in some long-lost language, and the feed cut to static as the camera was destroyed by a swift kick from an unknown assailant. Adrian slumped backwards onto the ground. He heard a yawning with a small amount of whistling coming from his left. Don was awake.  
“So,” Don rubbed the sleep from his eye sockets, “did the Hezurs miss another touchdown, or did you just feel like lying down on the floor?” Adrian turned his head, not focusing on any singular object in the room. “The king’s decreed that all skeletons in the kingdom should be rounded up, brought to the capital, and killed.” Don was only mildly surprised. “Its that whole Fascism thing.” Adrian chuckled darkly. “You’ve been hanging around with those Jensen kids, haven’t you?” He picked himself up, but stopped when he was kneeling. “I didn’t… I thought he cared about his subjects…” Don rolled the pinpricks of light in his skull that served as eyes. “Yeah, king or not, he’s just another politician.” Don walked upstairs and grabbed his bag. Pants, some shirts, and his favorite stuffed animal that only Adrian knew he still slept with (his name was Steve, and he was a bear.) He put on some heavier clothing when he saw the temperature outside (30 degrees Fahrenheit. Yikes.) and moved down the stairs, passing Adrian on the way. “So, um… are you gonna get your bag?” Adrian nodded sadly, and moved on. Don sat on the welcome mat in the kitchen and pulled out his EntertainmentChild. After more than a few attempts to de-throne the evil wizard that was plaguing the fictional realm of Aerhta, Adrian finally came downstairs. He had evidently gotten out of his funk at the possible genocide of his entire race, and was comparatively optimistic about leaving his life and everything he knew behind.

After walking upon the fields that Adrian’s family had tended to for generations, with Adrian lagging behind to pick whatever fruits or vegetables were ripe, they reached the edge of their property. Adrian crossed the border where farmland met wildlands, but Don paused. Adrian turned to Don and gestured towards the wide-open space that awaited them. Don looked at Adrian. “When I take the next step, I will be farther from home than I ever have been.” Adrian rolled his eyes and dragged Don over the threshold. “We’re on the run, if you’ll remember. This whole drama about leaving behind what we know can wait.” Don looked disappointed, but walked along with Adrian. The duo wandered for what seemed like hours, checking the ever-clouded skies of their country. For what, Don didn’t know, but Adrian did it, so it must be worth doing. After a while of walking, Don finally asked what Adrian was checking for.  
“The king has most likely sent out his fleet of bird-golems to see if any skeletons escaped the purge. As skeletons who escaped the purge, it would be in our best interests to avoid being seen.”  
Don decided to stop looking at the sky.

After a while the clouds began to darken. Nighttime would be upon them. Adrian had packed a lighter and Don had brought some sleeping bags. They lit a fire and set up their rudimentary camp. Adrian pulled out a stick and a knife and began whittling away at it. Don watched closely. “Are you making a stake?” Adrian stopped whittling. “No. I’m just whittling away at this wood to take my mind off things.” Don scowled. “Could you avoid sarcasm? It makes me feel stupid.” Adrian looked at Don. “I wasn’t being sarcastic. I’m not going to kill the king.” Don stood up. “Why not?” Adrian resumed whittling. “He’s been a just ruler (until now, that is) and I feel like he may be able to listen to reason.” Don sat down, fuming. Maybe he didn’t think talking to the king was a good idea, but if Adrian thought so, it simply must be. Don looked at the mountain in the distance, marveled as the clouds spiraled about its peak, lightning flashing at a constant rate. “They say that mountain contains the heart of our world,” Adrian explained, “that the reason the overcast is drawn to it is because those that have died are moving on, and the mountain is a good catalyst.” Don turned to Adrian. “I heard about what happened in the capital. The newsman said something about skeletons igniting. What does that mean?” Adrian set down his knife and cleared a space in the dirt. “Alright, I’ll give you a visual.” Adrian drew a stick figure. “You know that skeleton marrow has magical properties, right?” Don nodded, staring at the figure in the dirt. “I’ll bet you didn’t know that the properties differ from user to user.” Adrian added 3 more figures and drew symbols above each. “Fire, Earth, Water, Air. The most basic elements, though many have marrow of different kinds.” Adrian drew a little monster in the middle of the 4 figures. “When a skeleton is in extreme duress, physical or emotional, their marrow’s potential is released.” He drew fire around one figure, a blizzard around another, a flood around the third, and wind currents around the fourth. “This increases their physical and magical abilities, and it usually ends in the death of whatever was bothering the skeleton.” Adrian drew little Xs on the eyes of the little monster. Don leaned forward. “That’s a sad little monster.” Adrian chuckled. “Of course, offense isn’t an ignited skeleton’s only ability.” Adrian removed the Xs and drew another set of eyes. “Depending on the skeleton’s personality and element, the enemy may either be completely eradicated, or their aggression may be removed entirely.” Adrian drew a smile on the monster. Don laughed. “I like that a lot better.” Adrian smiled in kind and cleared the dirt of the shapes, but he left the smiling monster in the dirt. He had endeared himself to the thing. “Have you ever ignited before, Adrian?” Adrian stopped and averted his gaze. “I’d rather not talk about it.” Don tilted his cranium. “Can you tell me anything about it?” Adrian gripped his arm where, underneath the cloth, a scar could be found running the length of the bone. “No.” Don pouted. “Why not?” The light in Adrian’s eyes intensified. “I think we need sleep.” Before Don could protest, Adrian kicked some dirt onto the fire. When the smoke cleared, Adrian was already in his bag, facing away from Don. Don climbed into his bag, already missing the bed in his old room.

 

Fire, the peat of the earth burning underneath him. Flames poured from his bones, as if they had been covered in gasoline and ignited. Silver-armored knights all tried to fell him, with their little swords and their little shields. All fell before him. It wasn’t him, though. He was called something different. A knight finally struck him. He didn’t feel it. He removed the knight’s helmet, as well as his head. The headless knight fell, blood already flowing into the ground. He looked to the storming sky, red in the sunset and looking positively hellish. He chuckled, a deep ruk-ruk sound that made his comrades tremble. Humans were dying in droves, blood mixing with the rainwater. He tore a man’s arm off and beat him with it, laughing and continuing long after the poor sod had died, until he was pounding pulverized meat into the red earth. He laughed after he was done and turned the man’s arm onto another knight. This one was more heavily armored, so when he beat the man’s head with his comrade’s arm after shattering the comparatively flimsy wooden shield, the knight didn't die immediately. He continued to beat at the greater knight until the man's helmet caved. It caved with such force that it lodged itself into his face, into his skull. The knight fell, screaming and gurgling. He left that one to die slowly. He dropped the arm and threw his head back, laughing as if the life that was ending around him were some sort of joke. It was the funniest joke he ever heard. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. After he had killed many and the enemy retreated, he still laughed. His bones cooled and his smile dropped. He continued laughing. It hurt so much. He laughed as a pale-skinned man wearing a crown walked towards him and shook his hand. Red marrow sputtered from his neck as he fell to the ground, laughing into unconsciousness. The last thing he heard was a rich voice say a phrase that would never leave his mind, no matter what he tried.

“This land will be ours. They will never be seen within our borders again.”

Don, on the other hand, dreamed of the old heroes he read about through the years. He had his own silver armor, his own sword and shield, and a horse that could talk! He was on the way to save a beautiful, rich, kind skeleton girl who had been kidnapped by a terrible monster. He woke up before reaching her. He always woke up before reaching her.

 

 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

The doors slammed shut behind the king, and he let his smile drop. He rubbed the space around his mouth. Forcing smiles for so long hurt him, given how little he smiled or frowned on his own. He moved from the doors and down the hall, making sure to only walk upon the red-and-gold carpet. His guards, much fewer in number after the purge, hailed him half-heartedly. He didn’t pretend to smile; they weren’t paying attention anyway. He had learned to know when he could drop his painful facade, and now was such a time. He looked around, to be sure the hall was empty. Indeed, nothing was there save for some suits of armor and a bookcase or two. He quickly ducked into a spare room. The room was completely empty save for a torch sconce next to a suspiciously-full bookcase. The king moved to the bookcase and pulled at the false books quickly. Top left, middle, bottom middle, middle right… then he pulled the sconce like a lever.

Black spikes, humming with energy, stabbed forth from the bookcase, and the chamber behind it collapsed. The spikes pierced the king’s robe and armor, pinning him in place. The enchantment already began seeping into him, turning his blood to acidic poison. He made a gurgling noise in surprise, and quickly looked down. He had entered the wrong combination and been impaled as a result. In several places, in fact. “Oh my,” he managed to say around a mouthful of black acid, “I’ve been impaled in several places as a result of entering the wrong combination.” He coughed, with speckles of blood hitting the wall in front of him, smoking on impact. He chuckled, sending forth another spray onto the ceiling. He laid his head back, not caring about the burning poison that dripped onto his face.

And the king waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, now I need to start writing actual new chapters. Previous chapters and anomalies have been backlogged.


	4. The Border Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes shuffle off towards the capital, and Adrian begins to truly doubt his king's benevolence.

After Adrian and Don cleared their campsite, they began walking towards the houses in the distance. Adrian said that was where the capital was, and Don had no reason to doubt him. As they neared the city on the capital's borders, Don found his reason to doubt. The place they had reached was indeed a city, but it was hardly habitable. A giant dirt cloud seemed to permeate the air. If either of the brothers needed to breathe, they'd most likely be having a lot of trouble.  
"This seems to be a crummy place for a capital."  
"These are the undead projects. These houses were built for creatures created by human blood. The king had these homes built to help those in need."  
A building collapsed, but it was so fragile and frail that it barely elicited a tremor.  
"I'll have to take your word for it."  
Don and Adrian walked down the filthy, cobblestone pathway, kicking up loose stones no matter how they stepped. After a minute or two of walking down the pathway in complete silence, a thought wormed its way into Don's cranium.  
"Why do the undead need special houses?"  
Adrian's neutral expression dropped into melancholy.  
"The other creatures haven't trusted undead since the war. Most undead aren't allowed in the inner cities."  
Don was unsatisfied.  
"You never told me about the war."  
Adrian walked faster, and Don followed suit. "I plan on keeping it that way."  
Don continued with his questions. "What are we looking for?"  
"An inn."  
"How do you know there's an inn here?"  
Adrian chuckled. "There's always an inn."

The duo finally found their way into an inn. It was cleaner than the streets outside, for one. And it was noticeably populated. Adrian sat down at the bar. When Don tried to sit next to him, Adrian lightly slapped his hand. Don was startled, and he stepped down. "This part of the inn is for grown-ups. Stay nearby, but don't sit at the bar." Adrian patted Don on the head. "And don't try to make friends here." Don pouted. Adrian turned back towards the bar and called the bartender over. Don looked around the room, taking note of all the different sorts of undead sitting around. The orange lights of the chandelier that hung from the roof casted a comforting glow around the room. As Adrian ordered something, Don grinned mischievously. "I'm gonna make SO many friends."

The bartender slid the mead bottle down the bar, and Adrian caught it. He sipped it suspiciously. "I guess it isn't poisonous." He took a swig. "That's a shame." A dry chuckle emerged from the mummy beside him. He took another swig from th e mead botle. He burp. Thisst uff was pretty tsrong, in all honstey. His head starte dtospin adn he vision got daeker. His evry sente nce gto les and less cohernt. Sudnle, the mumyo sayd t ohim.  
"Uh... is that your kid over there?"  
That sobered Adrian up quickly.  
He turned around and saw his brother on top of a table, with a crowd of draugr, revenants, and other undead seated around him. His brother was gesturing wildly and posing dramatically atop the table with a big grin on his face. Adrian ran over and fought hard to reach the center of the crowd. 

"And then I grabbed the newspaper!" The crowd leaned in closer. "Then-!" The crowd leaned in even closer. "I cornered the spider and I-!" the crowd was practically falling out of its collective seats. "Squished it into mush!" The crowd leaned back, positively shocked at such a minor achievement. Adrian was unimpressed. Don dropped his pose and looked down guiltily. "I felt sort of bad, though. It ain't right to hurt someone for no good reason." A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd. Two bruised ghouls who had been pointedly eyeing each other were locked in an awkward, if calming, embrace. Adrian, of course, didn't notice any of this. What he saw was his oblivious little brother on display in a crowd of criminals. He shoved past everyone violently. When he reached the table, he pulled down his brother and dragged him to a corner by his arm. He stopped suddenly and stooped down to Don's level. "Don't EVER run off like that again!" Don rubbed his arm where Adrian had grabbed him, with his most-recent goofy grin only starting to fade. "Well, all of those people were sitting away from each other, and they seemed so lonely," Don's eye-lights began to intensify, "and whenever you tell stories near the village, everyone gets together and has a grand old time!" Adrian did not falter. "You're a small skeleton in a city of criminals and-" Don suddenly shouted "JUST BECAUSE THEY'RE CRIMINALS DOESN'T MEAN THEY AREN'T PEOPLE!" Adrian was stunned. This was the first time that Don had ever raised his voice at him. He tried to say something along the lines of "don't take that tone with me," but Don wasn't finished. "You're so dam- uh, darn paranoid!" Don stood up straighter, getting in Adrian's face. "You think that everyone wants you and me dead!" Don stomped his foot. "Even when those Farris folks come over to invite us to that village barbecue, you always make me hide and we never get to go! You never want to leave the house! You never let me have fun! Why won't you ever let me go play with the other kids! I'm 7 years old now, for Pete's sake! I've gone 7 years without ever making a friend because you won't let me leave!" Don was getting tired, he wasn't used to getting angry. "Ever since I was born you've kept me all sheltered. I was having fun for the first time in my life!" He put all of his energy into his final, top-of-his-proverbial-lungs-shouting statement, and he made sure to punctuate it for emphasis. "YOU!" Don poked Adrian in the sternum, "AIN'T!" Adrian hated it when Don said "ain't," but the second sternum-poke silenced his protests, "NOTHIN'!" Don's speech was devolving, slowly becoming more vernacular than vocabulary. "BUT A STINKIN'!" Another poke, "YELLA-BELLIED!" Adrian's sternum was starting to hurt, "COWARD!" Don pushed Adrian with all his might. Adrian fell onto a booth, dazed. Don calmed down almost immediately, and while he did regret making such a scene in public, he didn't let it show. Don walked away from Adrian, who's jaw had practically hit the floor, and tossed an "I'm going to the room" over his shoulder, obviously not caring whether Adrian heard him or not.

A one-eyed draugr helped Adrian to his feet and brushed him off. "You alright?" Adrian nodded. "I don't mean to be nosy, but was all that the truth?" Adrian paused.  
Then Adrian nodded.  
The draugr sighed. "I hate it when people fight. It's good for business, but bad for everything else, ya know what I mean?"  
"Wait," Adrian thought, "good for business?"  
He looked at the draugr.  
It was the same draugr that had been covering the king's announcement on the news.  
"Real shame about what the king did," the draugr chuckled, "a real shame indeed."  
The drauger suddenly struck. Adrian was surprised, and stars danced in his vision. The draugr began to lift the skeleton over its shoulder, mumbling about promotions.  
They draugr carried Adrian to the door to the inn, and it seemed that nobody would stand up to stop it.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The doors slammed shut behind the king, and he his smile dropped into a scowl. He began briskly walking down the hall. That damn bookcase was going to be the death of him.  
With a humorless chuckle, he realized it had been.  
Of course, he was far too important to die for good. His time wasn't here yet. He turned into the spare room and studied the bookcase. It was then that he remembered something.  
He concentrated, imagining something opening before him. He reached forward and walked into his pocket dimension.  
It was the size of a warehouse and completely blank, save for what he had brought in recently. A filing cabinet was propped up against the wall behind him. He opened the lowest drawer and searched through the papers.  
A, B, C... there it was: his cheat sheet. He pulled it from the drawer and shut the cabinet. The combination was written in handwriting that only he seemed to be able to read. Just as he walked towards the door he heard an all-too-familiar voice emerge from behind him.  
"Back at it again, I see."  
He rolled his eyes and turned around, glaring at the mask-wearing figure behind him. "Yes, indeed." He made a shooing motion with his free hand. "Now piss off. This is a private dimension."  
The figure growled. "Universe."  
The king slowly turned to the figure. "You know I don't like being corrected."  
What could be seen of the figure's mouth twisted into a smile, a smile of rotten teeth that were missing in a few places. "That's a shame. I love correcting you."  
The king yelled in anger and blasted the figure with a fireball. When the smoke cleared, the figure was several feet away from the scorch mark. It made a tutting sound with its tongue. "Temper, temper." The king took a deep breath. "Why are you here?" The figure stopped smiling. "I'm here to warn you... again." It began moving towards the king. "If you do what you are planning to do again, then the consequences may be irreversible." The king's temper flared and so did the flames that burned around his hands. "That's the point!" He stomped his foot and forced the flames to recede. "My people were run out from these lands, and if I can't have my home, no one can!" The king's flames were running through his veins, burning away at his flesh. He didn't care. He had learned to ignore pain several cycles ago. The figure's expression remained blank. "Not this time." The king's anger turned to confusion. "The ones that will stop you- they're stronger in this cycle than they ever have been." The king was startled, but hid it well. "How can that be?" The figure grinned and pointed upwards. The king laughed. "You know they've abandoned us, right?" The figure returned to its neutral expression. "Yes, but they have not abandoned the people of that universe," the figure gestured towards the open door, "and it is my duty to keep them safe until their timeline is stable." The king's expression darkened, and his voice changed completely. "That will never happen." He said, with acid dripping from every syllable. "Give infinite monkeys infinite typewriters and infinite time," the figure began to fade, "and they may write the works of Shakespeare."  
The king was alone in his universe.


	5. Not Another Rescue Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don proves himself... I guess. Really, his characterization is all over the place.

Don screamed into his pillow, thankful that Adrian had already made arrangements in the inn. Don was crying for the first time in 3 years, and it felt really good. Like he'd been holding back to make whoever he met happier. Don laid back on his bed, slowly calming himself with whatever terrible jokes he could think of.  _why did the chicken cross the road?_  Don was trying to remember the answer. His memory was fickle over the slightest things.

 _To get to the other side?_ Don didn't chuckle. Something about his current situation silenced his laughter. He had yelled at his older brother for the first time in... well, ever. What horrified him wasn't that he had yelled, or even that he'd gotten angry. What scared him is that he meant every word he said. Every grievance he aired was genuine, every emotion honest. In a moment of clarity, he realized he'd make a rather capable actor. He laughed.  _That's the ticket,_ he thought,  _any second now I'll start feeling better._ He continued joking about various things until he felt better. Standing up from his bed and snuffing out the candle on the nightstand, he walked back into the inn's pub.

When he entered the pub, with an apology just behind his teeth, he just barely caught a glimpse of an all-too-familiar draugr carrying what looked like his brother out the door. Don didn't worry at first, but then he remembered something Adrian told him a while ago.

"Those capital undead. I can't help but respect 'em. I wouldn't be surprised if there was anything they wouldn't do to keep their positions."

"Anything they wouldn't do."

The sound of Don understanding that concept was an almost-audible click.

Don ran at the draugr with all of his might. He slammed into the draugr's leg, and though it was only enough to stagger it, it was also enough to catch the attention of two ex-criminals sitting in a booth. The sound of Don's cry as the draugr swatted at him tore their gazes from each other. Indeed, it was that little skeleton that had introduced them to the feelings they were feeling now. If there was one thing they knew about, even before this remarkable little skeleton introduced them to the softer world of emotion, it was how to repay a debt.

As the draugr batted at the little skeleton and tried to keep the bigger skeleton on its shoulder, the first criminal, a Jiangshi, hopped onto the draugr. This was enough to send it to the ground. Next, the ghoul that the Jiangshi had been mutually ogling scrambled to the hopping corpse's side. Before the draugr could cry out, the ghoul had his hands on either side of the almost-kidnapper's head, with his corpse-tearing teeth on full display. "I sure hope you don't like that other eye of yours." He cooed, saliva dripping from the needle-tips of his canines. The draugr was sweating (or was making a passable attempt to do so) and tried to get up. The Jiangshi hopped onto the draugr's pelvic bone. The draugr spasmed, then lay still, breathing hard. It was completely restrained. 

Don wasn't sure what he had just witnessed. All he knew is that his brother had fallen from the draugr's shoulder. Don scrambled to Adrian's side. Adrian didn't respond. Don grabbed Adrian's arm to check his marrow-flow. He paused, focusing over the hubub of his new friends restraining his most recent obstacle. Don could just barely hear the roar of flowing marrow in his brother's bones. He sighed in relief. It wouldn't be long. He mustered what little strength he could and tried to drag his brother upstairs to their room. With all the power in his little body, he was able to move his brother all of 3 inches. He stopped to catch his breath. Either Adrian was heavier than he remembered, or he needed to play catch-up on his strength. It was then that he noticed the two undead that had restrained the draugr. He swallowed his pride and squeaked out a request for assistance. He was very thankful when the ghoul's oddly-pointed ears perked up. It said something to the Jiangshi, which responded with a curt nod and another kick to the draugr's crotch. The ghoul smiled and pecked the Jiangshi on the cheek. He stood up and walked over to Don. "Did you say you needed help?" Don obviously hadn't finished swallowing his pride, because there was so much more to bypass. "Y... yes?" The ghoul chuckled and slung Adrian over his shoulder. "This guy just needs some bed rest. He's either hungover or he's suffered some massive head trauma." Adrian groaned. "Possibly both." Don glanced worriedly at his brother, already prepared to apologize. The ghoul nodded to the staircase. "You mind taking me to you guys' room?" Don stood up and began to lead the ghoul to the room he and Adrian had been planning to share.

 

Adrian awoke with an ice-bag on his head and confusion inside it. How had he made his way to bed? What happened to that draugr? Why did his head feel like someone was chiseling at it like a marble block that was being made into a fine Grecian statue? These questions were abruptly swept aside (well, save for the last one) when he awoke to see his younger brother sitting with a pair of criminals he recognized from that crowd. The two criminals, which he had identified as a Jiangshi and a ghoul (after they differentiated from the general blur of his room) were seated directly across from his little brother. He immediately leapt into a defensive stance. All eyes turned to him. There was a moment before the old diamond-tipped-drill-to-the-skull feeling returned with a vengeance, and Adrian collapsed. The Jiangshi chuckled and said something in a language that Adrian didn't understand. The ghoul chuckled and punched the Jiangshi in the arm, responding in the same language. Don laughed, but he was only being polite.

After many glasses of water and an hour-long power nap, Adrian was ready to rejoin the conversation. The Jiangshi was named "Akiko," and the ghoul was named Ardeshir. The draugr (whose name was Brandt) had knocked Adrian unconscious and was planning on taking him to the guards, where he would no doubt be publicly executed. Thankfully, Don had run downstairs and was able to both stall Brandt and draw the attention of Akiko and Ardeshir. After Ardeshir took Adrian upstairs, Akiko had knocked Gunter unconscious with a pan he borrowed (or should I say, barrowed?) from the kitchen. "Well, where is Brandt now?" Ardeshir chuckled and Akiko opened their closet with a flourish, and a properly-restrained, one-eyed undead fell from the closet, struggling and yelling around its makeshift gag. Adrian decided now was a good a time as any to dust off some old skills.

Brandt awoke in an inn room, face-to-face with a Jiangshi, a ghoul, and a skeleton. He recognized them all. "What is the meaning of this?" He was in a chair. Tied down, in fact. The taller skeleton was up in a flash and slapped Brandt. It wasn't too hard, but it was unexpected. As Brandt shook off his shock, the skeleton pulled the draugr to his face by the neck of his ruined suit.  "What're you doing here?" The draugr responded quickly enough. "I got thrown out of the capital. I was there for non-violent reasons and I got into a fight when the riots started. I got thrown out, and they told me if I brought a skeleton back, I could have my old job back." The skeleton let the draugr fall back into his chair. "You literally just told me everything I need to know." Brandt chuckled. "I don't exactly agree with the king on this. Some of my best friends were skeletons." Adrian returned to his previous position. "Then why were you so willing to sell a skeleton out?" Brandt stopped chuckling. "I was sorta hoping to see if my skeleton friends were okay. They lived in the capital after all." Adrian's eyes were pinpricks of fire in his skull, though his manner didn't shift. Brandt could feel the heat from the fires when Adrian moved closer. "So skeleton lives dont matter unless they're one of your friends?" Brandt looked simply despondent. "ScreenFace said he could help if I brought him a skeleton." Adrian's fire died out, but only slightly. "Who's ScreenFace?" Brandt's spirits lifted slightly. "Only the most popular musician, actor, and talk-show host in the Inner City!" Brandt's spirits lowered again. "But I guess he isn't so good after all." Adrian had calmed down. "Hey, its alright. I felt that way about the king before all of this." Brandt was beginning to cry. "You did?" Adrian smiled slightly. "Sure as sugar. We're not so different, are we?" Brandt chuckled. "Of course we are. You're a skeleton. You have so much I don't." Adrian was getting uncomfortable. His brother was better at comforting strangers than he was. "You know what they say about us creatures?" Brandt looked up to Adrian expectantly. "Each one of us has different stuff, but its always the right stuff."

It was the cheesiest line ever in the history of cheesiest lines ever.

But it worked.

"Alright, let Don back in." He patted Brandt on the head as the draugr had his bindings loosened. "That interrogation was hardly an interrogation at all." Adrian almost sounded like he was complaining.

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The king re-entered the spare room, cheat-sheet in hand. With proper direction, he was able to enter the correct combination. He pulled the sconce, and the bookcase swung open. A spiraling cobblestone staircase led downwards, and a purple light radiated from the end of the hall. The king waltzed into the stairway, descending into the depths of his castle.

 

After a half-an-hour of climbing down the stairs, he finally reached his destination. There were 5 tables, 4 of which had vials of liquids of differing colors. Each vial had a tube running into it. At the edge of the room was a machine filled with a black, tar-like substance. The tubes ran from the machine to the vials, and a constant supply of the black tar was mixing into the spectrum of fluid. The king rapped on a dial on the machine. The light flickered on and displayed its information.

**GRIEF LEVELS: MEDIUM. REFUEL SOON.**

**RAGE LEVELS: HIGH**

**APATHY LEVELS: WHO CARES?  
**

**MANIA LEVELS: RISING**

Everything was running correctly. The king pushed some buttons to make sure the tar-like substance continued to flow into the vials. After a minute or two of lingering, he finally ascended to the upper levels of his castle, cackling all the way.

 

Everything was going according to plan.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some conflict. Finally.

After resting in the inn's rather comfy beds, Don and Adrian finally began to head towards the capitol once more. Before they could leave the inn, however, they were stopped by an all-too-familiar draugr.

" _ SKELETONS!" _ Brandt seemed much more bombastic and loud. "YOU  _ DARE _ LEAVE WITHOUT LETTING ME COME ALONG?!?!?!?!?!??!?!" Don was stunned that any being would be able to say "exclamation point" and "question mark" in such rapid succession. He tugged on his big brother's shirt. "Adrian, I'm scared." Adrian looked bored. "Brandt is a draugr. My experience with draugrs tells me that he's gotten over his little slump and now he's back to his bombastic self." Brandt continued to yell. "IN THE NAME OF THE RUNES,  _ PAY ATTENTION TO ME!" _ Brandt plucked a butter knife from the bar and slammed it into the wall, chipping the wood and bending the knife. Adrian whistled. "Apparently he's been suppressing his more emotional side for a while." Don nodded. "That would explain his success as a newscaster." Before Brandt could continue his little scene, Adrian put a finger to Brandt's mouth. Brandt was silenced, but veins were popping forth from his forehead. Adrian spoke evenly. "You can come along." Don gave his brother a questioning glance. Brandt's veins ceased popping and he immediately calmed down. "Oh. Okay then." He began walking towards the stairs and, presumably, his room. "I'll just grab my things and join you." Adrian sat down at the bar and Don stood beside him, standing on the tips of his toes to reach the tabletop. "Are you sure letting Brandt tag along is a good idea? He did try to take you to the capitol." Adrian shrugged. "He has valuable information." "How do you know?" Asked Don. Adrian shrugged, grinning slightly. "Just a hunch."

Don sat on the ground, pouting, until Brandt walked down the stairs holding a single suitcase. Adrian stood. "Are you ready?" Brandt nodded. "Let's go then."

The newly-formed trio finally stepped out of the inn. The stormy skies shined slightly, showing that the sun had risen. Don and Adrian ran a quick inventory check of their packs, and headed off towards what Adrian claimed to be the center of the city and the capitol.

After wandering the decrepit streets, with Brandt taking special care not to kick up too many cobblestones, they reached a pair of silver gates attached to ivory arches. A crowd had gathered around the gate. After much shouldering and "pardon me's," the trio were able to see why. Attached to the arches was a single screen which displayed a counter that read "be back in 00:00:04," with the 4 rapidly approaching zero. Before any of them could ask what was happening, the 4 reached zero, and a groovy beat that wouldn't be out of place in an old-fashioned disco blared from unseen speakers. The screen blared to life with flashing colors and bright lights. After a few seconds, the lights seemed to part before another television screen above a chair behind a fancy desk. The screen turned around in the chair, revealing that it was, in fact, attached to a humanoid body wearing a suit. The "face" of this suited screen displayed a green, pixelated smile. It spoke, and the mouth of the smile synced with its speech. "What is up, Storm-Skyers! I am Screenface!" The enthusiasm of this "Screenface" was slightly grating. "I'm bringing you the hottest and freshest news from right here in the Middle City!" Screenface picked up some (obviously blank) papers and shuffled them around a bit before continuing. "Everything's dandy up in the capitol, with absolutely no riots and no negative repercussions from the king's ever-so-slightly controversial decree!" Don and Adrian looked at each other.  _ Slightly? _ mouthed Don. Adrian shrugged. "Screenface out in the field has more." The feed cut to another camera in the capitol, with a screen in the wall coming to life with the same pixelized smile. "Thanks, Screenface! I'm here with John and his wife Jane in the Capitol." A red light came to life at the base of the screen, next to a black dot. "How's life in the capitol." "John" and "Jane," a pair of cyclopes wearing the fakest smiles this side of Stepford, responded robotically. "It's fine. We love it. Please come to the capitol." Screenface let out a forced chuckle. "Well, obviously nothing bad is happening here and life is great! Back to you, Screenface." The feed returned to the news room. "Thanks, Screenface. Our next story comes from the Outer City where two skeletons-" Don and Adrian immediately hid their faces- "were sighted attacking a poor, innocent draugr!" A photo of the inn, taken at the moment that Don tackled Brandt, was put up on screen. "As you can see, this draugr is clearly defending himself from violent skeletons that want him very dead! As you all know, the king has called for an end to the skeletal menace, and has now specifically called for the arrest of these two individuals." Oddly high-resolution pictures of Don and Adrian were shown on the screen. "Anyone who turns in these specific skeletons will be granted living space within the capitol and a place on the king's council! Happy hunting!" Screenface put down his papers. "And that ends our broadcast. Tune in next time, or you're a looooser!" Screenface made a mock raspberry, the pixel face sticking its tongue out. "Have a Screen-Worthy(tm) day!" The screen shut off, and a countdown reading "be back in 00:05:00" appeared. 

The crowd parted, leaving the skeleton brothers and their friend alone. Brandt was positively enamored with something. Just when Don opened his mouth to ask Brandt to shut his, Brandt squealed in delight. "I'm not a loser anymore! I'm not a loser anymore!" It took 3 minutes for the draugr to calm himself enough to continue past the gates.  
  


The Silver Gate of the Middle City was unguarded. This was advantageous to the trio for obvious reasons. After wandering the empty, blindingly-white streets, Adrian finally admitted that he didn't know a thing about the Middle City. Don was startled, but not completely shocked. He didn't know anything about the Middle City either. As they exchanged their knowledge on their lack of knowledge, Brandt chimed in. "The proper title is the Silver Diadem of the Kingsland, but the Silver City works just as well." Brandt led the brothers closer to the middle of the city, where the Golden Gate of the Inner City could barely be seen in the distance. "You won't have to worry about being captured here. The Silver City is mostly nocturnal creatures. The only thing you need to worry about during the day is the occasional lycanthrope." Neither Don nor Adrian knew what a lycanthrope was. Brandt made a face of mock empathy. "Those poor souls... They're wolf-like beastmen that have been cursed to walk in the shape of a horrible creature during the day. That terribly weak creature known as a human." When Brandt said "human," Adrian's eyes intensified in their glow. "Human? Where?" His bones were smoking. Brandt spoke slowly and reassuringly. "There's no humans here. They're all gone." Adrian's eyes were still blindingly bright, but his bones stopped smoldering. "R-right. They're all dead..." Adrian took a deep, trembling breath with his eyesockets closed. When he opened them again, the lights had dimmed to their normal luminosity. "We killed them all. They can't bother us anymore." Don looked at Brandt. "I didn't know it was so easy to calm him down when he gets like that." Brandt gave Don the first serious look he had given since they met. "I can't do it again. The Voice of the Nord takes a lot of energy. I need sleep to recharge it." Don made a note to make Brandt tell him what a Nord was and why it got so tired after talking.

The trio moved closer to the gates of the Inner City. Brandt volunteered to go ahead and scout out the area. After a few minutes, during which Adrian and Don experimented with different methods of lessening the effect of the blinding ivory bricks of the Middle City, Brandt returned. Adrian spoke to him first. "Well, any news?" Brandt pointed towards the gate. "Four Tauren, six Changelings, and one Lich." He was panting. "We're gonna need a way over." Don gestured to a building that looked something like an inn. "Say, Adrian, is that an inn?" Adrian looked towards the inn-like building. "No. It's much too big." Brandt scoffed. "That's no inn! It's called a hotel." He led the brothers to this "Hoe-Tail" and entered. "You know, I'm actually from the Middle City." The colors of the hotel's lobby were less blinding than the white of the outdoors. They were sensible reds and yellows on the rugs, with some pinkish color for the wallpaper. "Really, now?" Asked Adrian. Brandt shifted slightly. "Well, I was homeless here for a good while." He took the brothers to a patch of wallpaper that seemed darker than the rest, it was in the corner, out of sight. Brandt worked his fingers into a groove in the darker wallpaper, revealing it to be a wooden trapdoor that led into a crawlspace. "I had a lot of free time, what with no job and all." The brothers entered, and Brandt closed the hatch behind him. "Get some rest." Don was puzzled. "Why? It's broad daylight outside and we just got here." Brandt chuckled. "This city's all about the night life, if you catch my meaning." Adrian understood perfectly. They all found mattresses to sleep upon in this rat's maze of crawl spaces and hinged walls. "Hey, Adrian?" Don said, from somewhere in the artificial darkness. "Why are we sleeping during the middle of the day." Adrian's mind quickly fabricated a response. "Because the author is very tired and needs sleep before our story can continue. They need their rest." Don made a sound of amazement. "Can you tell me more about this author person?" Adrian let out a noise of pure frustration. "No. I'm tired too!" Adrian turned over on his mattress, and that ended the conversation.


End file.
